Bronson: A Mafia Billionaire Romance by Shanna Handel

Author:Shanna Handel [Handel, Shanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stormy Night Publications
Published: 2019-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Paige

It’s a lot to take in.

The wine helps.

Bronson Bachman is a bloodline Bachman. He’s the head of the Bachman family. Essentially, I sit drinking wine with the man who happens to be the head of an organization much more powerful than the New York mafia is or has ever been.

Even in their heyday.

Though without any of the senseless violence, I have been assured.

Is that supposed to make me feel better? Violence is violence. Isn’t it? But when I look at him as he speaks, I know that inside of him is good.

And the Bachmans not only own the largest crime ring. They own a huge chunk of the city. Making them, I assume, billionaires.

Collectively, they own every building that lines their Village. They cleared the inner area, building the seven streets of row homes with the parklike setting in the center. Each one has access back into the city, via their businesses.

He really does have a lair. And a secret exit. And he has never done a lick of paperwork in his life.

I’m sitting next to an extremely powerful man. One who just ate my pussy in the alleyway leading to his secret world.

I take another long swig of wine.

And the women.

Bachman Beauties, as I’ve begun referring to them.

Powerful, intelligent. And all submissive to their dominant Bachman men.

It’s almost too much to take in.

And yet...

My mind keeps flashing to the image of Tess, standing bare-bottomed in her window, her punished ass on display for all to see.

Will that be me, one day?

My pussy clenches, gushing in my panties.

Who am I trying to kid? Myself?

The entire time he spoke, his handsome face remained free of emotion. It was as if he was giving me a lesson in history. Not telling me about his very complicated, very secretive life.

As he spoke, all I kept thinking was, makes sense to me.

Is there something wrong with me?

Wouldn’t most women run for their lives when the man they’re with declares himself a criminal? Hightail it out of there at the first sign of a secret black gate?

Well, I guess not every woman... there are the Mrs. Bachmans.

Badly behaved women put on display.

But these women agreed to this lifestyle. They want it.

And deep down, I know I do too.

Or at least I want to want to.

But my God, the commitment of it all.

I can’t even stick to a lipstick color, much less a man.

And to agree to his... correction, his discipline, even when I didn’t want to?

It sounds impossible.

But I want him.

There is no denying that.

I want him in that deep way that you want a tall glass of water after walking ten city blocks in Jimmy Choos on a sweltering New York summer day. (Not all of us get the pleasure of disappearing to the Hamptons when the thermometer reaches the hundreds.)

It’s a yearning that starts in the center of my core and rises up in my chest. My pulse feels weak at the idea of not having him.

I’ve become a different person, just knowing Bronson.

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